


the avengers are all trans

by thisprentiss



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Agender Character, Genderfluid Character, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, bOI I LIVE FOR TRANS AVENGERS!!, transvengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 16:18:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7445728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisprentiss/pseuds/thisprentiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>small drabbles about the avengers being trans and coming out to each other. i'll figure out a new title later</p><p>now edited/polished up!</p>
            </blockquote>





	the avengers are all trans

**Author's Note:**

> yeet! im cleaning this first chapter up bc im gonna add another chapter. i am gay

No one would know that despite the flare, bravado, and playboy-genius style, Tony Stark could have a near-anxiety attack in the bathroom just because Captain America walked in on him shirtless.

It wasn't really Steve's fault; Tony  _had_ just asked JARVIS to find someone to take a look at the arc reactor. But he'd been expecting Pepper.  _Maybe_ Bruce. But not Steve.

And he thought he'd locked the door.

His first instinct was to freeze in shock, staring at Steve and watching Steve stare back. Then he finally felt the panic grab hold of him and he threw the screwdriver in his hand straight at Steve. It hit him point blank in the chest.

"What the hell, Rogers, don't you  _knock,_ is- is- were- were manners invented after you got frozen!? Were- was-" Tony could feel his heartbeat in the back of his skull; he couldn't hold up the joking tone, it was getting stuck in his throat along with his lunch. "Get out. Go, get-" his head was spinning, and he collapsed against the wall and slid to the ground, trying to fight the incoming panic attack. He could tell Steve was talking, but it was Howard's voice that echoed in his ears -  _no daughter of mine - you're just a dyke - fucking sick phase-_

" _FUCK YOU!_ " the words ripped out of Tony's throat and made his chest burn. Tears streaked down his cheeks, and through his blurred vision he could see Steve's hands on the ground in front of him- Steve was leaning forward. 

"Tony, hey- look at me," he said softly, and something in his voice reminded Tony of his godmother Peggy- it grounded him for a split second. Long enough for him to push Steve back away from him.

"Fuck off, Rogers," he meant for it to come out in a snarl, but his voice cracked pitifully. "Just- don't look at me, okay? Get out of here." When Steve didn't move, Tony choked back another noise and wrapped his arms tighter around himself, trying to hide his top surgery scars. Chin quivering, he let his head drop. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"You-  _what?_ "

"I'm sorry," Tony looked back up at Steve with his jaw clenched tight, "Please just- just don't say anything, I don't- I've already heard it all from my d- from Howard, I don't need you telling me too."

Steve looked so genuinely confused Tony wanted to punch him. "Tell you  _what?_ "

"You know damn fucking well-" Tony didn't even finish his sentence, watching Steve's eyes drop to his scars and then shoot back up to him, realization written all over his face.

"Shit, Tony- No, I would never- I mean _I'm-_ " he quickly backed up and stripped off the blue workout top he'd been wearing, gesturing to his own chest. It took Tony a second to see the scars, but when he did, a sense of relief washed over him. Steve gave him a small laugh. "Yeah."

"You-"

"Yep. Oh c'mon, don't look so surprised. What, you think being transgender was invented after I got frozen or something? Guess I bound my chest when I was a kid for nothing, then."

 

* * *

 

Nat had their binder on under a sweatshirt and their hair up in a bun, sunk down in the posh sofa on the roof with their feet up on the coffee table. Their laptop rested comfortably in their lap, hot from hours of watching the X-Files, and a half-finished Starbucks iced coffee sat precariously on the armrest.

Through their headphones, Nat heard the screen door slide open and then close again. 

They looked over their shoulder and smiled when they saw Dr. Banner approaching. "Morning, jolly green," they said, taking a sip of coffee and pausing the episode. Bruce returned the smile; it was genuinely happy for a change. Nat felt warmth in their chest at seeing their friend happy.

"You up here all alone?" Bruce asked. Nat just snorted and slid over on the couch.

"I mean no shit," they said, "I'm watching Netflix. You want in?" they held out an earbud enticingly. 

Bruce sat down next to them, tossing a pathetically cracked iPhone 5 onto the cushion, and curiously looked at the screen. "What're you watching?" squinting at the screen, Bruce let out a  _hm_ sound, "X-Files! Nice."

"You ever watched before?" Nat asked. Bruce laughed shyly.

"What kind of lesbian would I be if I hadn't watched the X-Files?" it was so quiet - like everything Bruce says - that Nat almost didn't hear it.  _Almost._ When they looked up, they saw a look of sheer terror written across Bruce's face. "Natasha, I- I'm not- I didn't m-"

"Hey. It's okay, don't worry about it," they interrupted. Bruce didn't answer, face red with embarrassment and hands clenching khaki material. "I get it. Shit slips out."

"No, Natasha, that shit  _doesn't_ slip out," Bruce mumbled.

Nat closed their laptop and put it on the coffee table, pulling their feet in to sit cross-legged. "If I've noticed one thing about people, it takes at least five minutes to adjust back into usual speech patterns after talking to someone they're close with. You were just on Skype with someone named _Betty,_ who I'm going to _assume_ is your girlfriend, for an hour and a half, and it hadn't even been more than a minute when you came up here."

Bruce's eyes snapped up to look at them. "How did you-"

"Your phone was still on the Skype screen when you put it down. And I can read upside down."

"Right."

There was a long stretch of silence, and finally Nat let out a sigh and stretched their legs out to lie across Bruce's lap, smiling. "It's just Nat, by the way."

"What?" Bruce asked, seeming to be awkwardly adjusting to Nat's legs.

"I go by Nat," they repeated, "And they/them pronouns."

Bruce's eyes went wide. "Oh! Oh, you- you're-"

"Yep."

"Right, cool, um-" Bruce paused and took a deep breath, then turned toward Nat just slightly, "I- I'm she- you know. I use she/her." When she saw Nat smile and nod, Bruce let out a sigh of relief and gave Nat a gentle grin, "Wow, it- it feels good to say that. I haven't really- I haven't told anyone else on the team."

"Me neither. Except Clint, but he doesn't count, I've known him for too long," Nat paused, then nudged Bruce's chest with their foot, "You still go by Bruce, or something else?"

She shrugged. "I mean... I haven't figured out a different name yet. I'm working on it, though. I have-" she went red again, "I have a list."

"Hit me up with it if you want help some time. Or if you want a tester to see how anything sounds," Nat said, leaning over to get their laptop again. They shifted and curled into Bruce's side, handing her an earbud. "You want me to keep this on the down low?"

Bruce put the earbud in and licked her lips. "I guess. Yeah. How about you?"

"I don't really care who knows at this point. Ready for X-Files?"

"Oh you know I am."

 

 

* * *

 

Thor wasn't very familiar with Midgard's gender customs, but he was _definitely_ not fond of them.

Part of him felt glad that Jane and Darcy were the first Midgardians he personally knew - neither of them were "cis-gendered" or whatever, Jane calling herself a "trans woman" and Darcy "non-binary" - but being with the two of them, as well as Dr. Selvig, didn't prepare him for the absurdity of Midgard's views on gendered clothing. 

 _Nothing_ could've prepared him for that. 

He didn't see a problem wearing a sundress on a hot day. It was  _hot_. Flowing fabric is  _comfortable._ It just makes sense. But apparently not on Midgard.

The others in Avengers tower were supportive, giving words of advice and encouragement when the tabloids blew up at this wardrobe choice. Thor knew they would never understand the level of confusion he was on, though. 

Especially when reporters threw terms and labels at him, headlines asking, "Thor: God, Avenger, Transgender?" and "Crossdressing Superheroes?" and "Could Asgardian Avenger Also Be Non-Binary?"

But he didn't know how to answer. All he could do was repeat the phrase, "On Asgard you simply  _are._ "

He didn't have a problem  _accepting_ what people had to say about their own genders, but he didn't fully  _understand._ Especially in regards to himself. There were just so man  _terms_ , so many definitions, so many different labels.

The Black Widow calls themself  _agender_ , a word introduced to Thor when he'd so presumptively called them a woman. They go by  _they_ , instead of  _she_ , and  _Nat_ instead of  _Natasha._ Doctor Banner told Thor she was a trans woman; Thor asked her if it had something to do with her IQ, because his other smart friend Jane was trans as well. Bruce seemed to find the question  _very_ funny. The Iron Man was also transgender, but he had transitioned to male. The Captain transitioned in a similar way to Stark, but identified differently, calling himself - or  _themself_ , on some days - genderfluid.

Even after hearing about those and all the others - genderqueer, nonbinary, bigender, pangender - Thor still wasn't sure he wanted to put a label on himself.

He's just Thor, the god of thunder, who sometimes likes to dress feminine and sometimes likes to dress masculine. And that's alright with him.

 

* * *

 

Clint made some bad decisions.

Okay, a _lot_ of bad decisions. Wearing his binder into battle was one of those bad decisions, and he was _really_ feeling the repercussions.

By the time he got back to his apartment in the tower, he felt like his chest was going to crack open. He knew he'd broken at least two ribs when he fell off that roof, but he didn't want to break any more than he already had. Clint struggled with his vest and shirt, then started to try and pull the binder off, swearing when he couldn't get it off. "Binder, no!" he groaned to himself.

It seemed the more he tried, the harder it got, and he eventually fell back on his bed, panting and coughing. Yeah, he probably at least cracked another rib.

"Agent Barton?"

Clint jumped at JARVIS' voice, falling off the bed and hitting the ground. "Jeez, JARVIS, don't do that to me!"

"Agent Barton, you appear to be in distress," JARVIS continued. Clint couldn't help but laugh, hissing when it hurt, "I've noted you're attempting to remove a chest binder, correct?"

"Yeah, and I can't get the damn thing off, either..." he made another futile attempt, but gave up with a sigh. "Could you get someone? Like- you've got Kate's number, right?"

"Actually, Agent Barton, I've sent Miss Potts to assist you."

Clint let out a long groan. "Aw, JARVIS, no! I'm a mess, I don't want Pepper seeing me like this!"

"You don't want Pepper seeing you like  _what?_ "

Clint rolled over to face the doorway with an awkward smile on his grimy, sweaty face. Pepper stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips, one eyebrow lifted. He gave her a salute. "Hey, Miss Potts!"

"Alright, Clint, c'mon. Sit up," she marched toward him and helped him into a sitting position, "I'm sending you to the med center after we get this off. Let's go, arms up, take a deep breath and let it out. And don't give me that look, Clint, it's no problem. I had to deal with Tony's bad binder decisions for eight  _years._ This is  _nothing._ "


End file.
